[MY PARENTS CANNOT READ THIS ONE]

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"Psst."

Alexander stiffened and turned around.

Before he could do anything else, a cloth was held to his face. He tried to get it off, his arms getting weaker by the second.

Eventually, he went limp.

The last thing he saw was a man dragging him behind an alley.

—

Alexander woke up with a groan, feeling cold stone beneath him.

He hadn't even had to sit up to know what had happened.

With shaky hands, he stood up, wincing in pain. He straightened his clothes, looking around the alley. Night had fallen.

His own home was too far away.

He needed to go somewhere safe.

What was safe?

John Laurens.

Lafayette.

The two names popped into his head immediately, followed by guilt and regret as he was forced to acknowledge their deaths.

Trembling, he began walking through dark alleyways. With his luck, and with the fall of night, he would most likely be assaulted again if he were to stay or attempt to go to his own house.

Jefferson, he reluctantly realized.

Thomas Jefferson's street was less than a block away.

Another jab of pain reminded him that he couldn't be picky about it.

And so, the reluctant trot to Jefferson's house began.

—

There was a knock on the door.

Jefferson made his way to the door, grumbling under his breath. He opened the door.

"Hamilton?" he asked in shock.

"Jefferson, p-please, I need help," Alexander choked out.

His hair was a mess, his clothes messy and dusty. His arms had scratches and bruises.

"What happened?" Jefferson asked in confusion, looking the man up and down.

"P-please- just-" Alexander trailed off, wordless.

Jefferson stiffened. If Hamilton was quiet, something was very wrong.

"Come in," Jefferson reassured stiffly.

"Thank you so much," Alexander breathed, stepping inside in a heartbeat.

"What happened?" Jefferson repeated, leading Alexander into the sitting room.

Alexander shakily sat down.

"I- uh-" Alexander hesitated.

Would Jefferson laugh at how pathetic he was, unable to even fend for himself?

"I got raped," Alexander admitted quietly, his voice breaking.

"Oh. Holy hell," Jefferson said in shock, taken aback. "If- if you need to... uh... the bathroom is at the end of the hall."

"Thank you," Alexander whispered gratefully.

—

"Are you alright?" Jefferson asked genuinely.

Alexander remained silent.

"I- I don't know."

"Okay. Would you like to stay here tonight? I have an extra room," Jefferson offered kindly.

"Uh, yes, thank you," Alexander smiled weakly.

"Of course," Jefferson smiled encouragingly.

He couldn't deal with facing Eliza and his children after all of that. Plus, night had fallen long ago.

"Are you hungry?"

Ignoring the pangs of hunger stabbing his stomach, Alexander shook his head.

"'I'll show you to your room, then," Jefferson said, slightly concerned at Alexander's lack of response.

Alexander numbly nodded, following Jefferson upstairs.

"Here," Jefferson led him to a bedroom down the hall.

"Thank you," Alexander mumbled.

"No problem. Tell me if you need anything," Jefferson nodded before leaving the room.

Alexander let out a suffered sigh and closed the door, shuddering. He could feel the ghosts of hands on him, touching him. The ghosts felt so real, phantom pains and touches on his skin.

Alexander shuddered, twitching in disgust, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Stop," Alexander sobbed beggingly, "stop, stop, stop."

The hands did not stop.

—

Thomas Jefferson was concerned.

Very concerned.

Hamilton was so quiet, so still, so... dull.

Everything that Hamilton wasn't.

Would he be alright? Jefferson wondered in worry.

Despite what others thought, Jefferson wasn't one to kick a puppy while its down.

Neither was he the enemy of Alexander Hamilton.

They were nor friends nor enemies, what one might call 'frienemies'.

And Jefferson hoped Hamilton would get better, hoped that they would continue to fight many more times.

—

Alexander managed to fall asleep with difficulty, the phantom touch following him to his nightmares.

—

Alexander woke up panting, covered in sweat.

He had to relive that moment. Just great. He just had to.

"Fuck," Alexander whispered, sobbing.

—

Jefferson helplessly listened to the sound of Hamilton's sobs.

—

And night slowly faded away.

--

Jefferson sent a letter to Washington first thing in the morning.

If Burr's nepotism rumours had any truth, which Jefferson knew it had some truth to it, the man would like to know what had happened to Hamilton.

—

"Good morning," Alexander mumbled.

"Morning," Jefferson gave him a small smile.

"I need to write a letter, may I borrow supplies?" Alexander asked quietly.

"Oh, sure," Jefferson grabbed some paper, an envelope, a quill and an inkpot, handing them to Alexander.

"Merci," Alexander murmured, going inside.

—

'My dearest, Eliza,
I have to stay some place else for the time being. I shall explain once I return.

Sincerely,

A. Ham.'

—

The day passed slowly, the silence awkward as Jefferson waited for Hamilton to say something - anything.

Yet he stayed silent.

—

A knock on the door.

"I will get it," Jefferson sighed, getting up and stepping toward the door.

The door opened, and George Washington stood in front of it.

"Is Alexander still here?" Washington asked urgently.

"Y-yes, sir, let me get him," Jefferson stuttered in shock.

He stepped inside.

"Hamilton, Washington's here," Jefferson called out.

Sound of quick footsteps echoed and within seconds, Alexander stood at the doorway, staring at Washington in shock.

"Pa-" Alexander choked out.

"Son," Washington whispered, "May I hug you?"

Alexander hesitated before nodding and tackling Washington in an embrace. Jefferson watched in surprise.

"Uh, sir, come in," Jefferson said awkwardly.

Washington stepped into the house, Alexander desperately clinging to him.

"Alex," Washington chuckled, "It's alright, I'm here."

Alexander sniffled and nodded.

"Everything will be alright, son," Washington said seriously.

"Yeah," Jefferson reassured softly, "It'll be fine."

"Hopefully," Alexander mumbled.

-Fin-